


Running With My Roots Pulled Up

by semele



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2600849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semele/pseuds/semele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ongoing collection of Bellamy/Raven ficlets written for various tumblr prompt memes. Ratings vary from PG to NC-17. Written during and after s2.</p><p>In each ficlet, the prompt serves as a chapter title. Collection title comes from Rootless by Marina and the Diamonds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raven finds out about Bellamy getting arrested over fighting Murphy

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt: Can you do rellamy where raven finds out about bellamy getting arrested over fighting Murphy pls?? And of course she's really mad and bellamy doesn't wanna tell her that he did it because he cares about (loves) her.

It takes weeks before Raven can have sex again.

She never asks Abby directly how long she should wait, because it's awkward, her story a mouthful to tell. There was a boy, and I jumped off a spaceship to keep him safe, but he didn't love me the right way, so I found another one, a boy made of splinters and good will, and he doesn't love me, either, but I want him to touch me anyway. 

It's better to wait than to tell a story like this, so Raven waits, pushing through until walking, sitting, standing and lying down hurt less and less; until Abby stops reminding her again and again to slow down and take care of herself.

This is why she waits with finding a new lover, she tells herself. She needs to be sure, doesn't she? It wouldn't do at all if she pulled something now, damaged a muscle or a stitch.

Right.

***

There's a great many things Raven expects to come next. She expects Bellamy to return with their people, bruised and battered, but happy; and she expects him to not return at all, because on the ground, no return is a certainty. She expects him to come back for reinforcements, to bring intel, to haul in someone wounded.

What she doesn't expect is Bellamy, hands unbound, bringing up the rear of Kane's returning diplomatic mission to the Grounders.

She knows he'd been arrested, of course, and knows how he escaped, so it's understandable that she feels anxious, anxious and slightly annoyed, because she can't take her eyes off his face, breathlessly checking it for injuries.

Because he'd totally be walking if he had wounds on his head. Great thinking, Reyes.

She doesn't stop to examine why this matters so much, because, frankly, she's had enough of it, enough of turning the same thing over and over in her head until it became sour on her tongue. There was a boy she'd jumped off a spaceship for, but he didn't love her the right way, and...

See?

Bellamy doesn't ask questions when she grabs his sleeve and leads him to her quarters, and thank fuck he doesn't, because Raven doesn't know how she'd answer any of them. 

(No “How do you feel?” or “Does this hurt?”; and most of all, bless him, no “What can I do for you?”)

Instead he pulls her close for a kiss as if this was a normal thing between them, and Raven finds herself responding eagerly, hungry mouth and hungry fingers, and a very hungry knee sliding up Bellamy's leg like a snake. It's been ages since someone kissed her first.

“You got arrested like a complete idiot,” she murmurs into his mouth after a while. It might be irrelevant, she knows, but it's also incredibly important.

(“I shot him,” she doesn't say. “I shot him with an empty gun, and couldn't even move enough to reload.”)

“I'll wait for Kane to turn his back the next time,” replies Bellamy quietly, and his hands close tighter around her waist.

It hurts, and for a second Raven panics, but then she realizes it's okay, really okay, no broken bones or pulled muscles. So she pushes against him harder.

It's graceless and inelegant, the way they scramble out of their clothes exchanging kisses like blows, jaws and chests and chins. Raven scratches Bellamy's back to get him to undress faster, and he bites her lip so hard he draws blood, real blood, look at it; Raven Reyes made of flesh and blood, and not porcelain.

His fingers dig into the flesh of her hips like splinters, and it's a blessing, the way he wants her so badly he can't even wait to explain the why and the how. Raven wraps her good leg around his waist, then reaches to touch his face, and okay, her back hurts like it could break in two, but it doesn't, it fucking doesn't, not even when she arches it to get a better angle.

She promised herself she wouldn't think, so once they're done, she lets Bellamy drop to his knees, and eat her out until she can't walk straight.


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bellamy returns to camp, he's so tired he doesn't even have the energy to wonder what he'll find there. Not-thinking is a habit hard to break, and he's just spent days pushing things out of his head in order to keep on track, to sort out priorities and keep an eye on Murphy. And anyway, what would be the point, exactly? There was no one to ask about Octavia, and he couldn't bring himself to ask Finn about Raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written immediately after 2x04. Because my dash saw the 2x05 trailer and exploded.

When Bellamy returns to camp, he's so tired he doesn't even have the energy to wonder what he'll find there. Not-thinking is a habit hard to break, and he's just spent days pushing things out of his head in order to keep on track, to sort out priorities and keep an eye on Murphy. And anyway, what would be the point, exactly? There was no one to ask about Octavia, and he couldn't bring himself to ask Finn about Raven.

(There was nothing he could do for either of them.)

So now he walks into camp in blazing morning sun, hand in hand with his sister, and freezes mid-motion at the sight of Raven Reyes brushing her teeth by a water container.

There are guards and questions, not to mention threats and quite a lot of gun-waving. Bellamy can hear Octavia's raised voice; she yells a lot for one raised under floorboards, he thinks nonsensically, she must've learned that in Skybox.

By the time he explains his way out of handcuffs, Raven is nowhere to be seen.

***

He finds her in her workshop, and the second he sees her, he has no clue what he was actually going to say.

“I heard you found a trail,” offers Raven when she sees him on the doorstep. “Finn went with Murphy? Is he out of his mind?”

Bellamy shakes his head.

“There was nothing else we could do,” he says simply. If Raven disagrees, it looks like she's taking it out on a screwdriver.

Silence stretches into discomfort, measured in tapping feet and bitten lips. What else did he expect, really?

“I thought you were dead,” he blurts out suddenly, and Raven jerks her head rapidly, finally meeting his eyes. “I was sure...”

“Close enough.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“No, Raven... How _are_ you?”

There is a spark of understanding in her eye; a realization that this isn't a polite question, or something fueled by his need to ease his guilt. She nods grimly.

“It hurts,” she says, then starts getting up slowly, a clank of metal announcing her every movement. Bellamy watches her intently.

“Some knee brace,” he comments once she emerges from behind her table.

“That's rich, coming from a guy who looks like he's been shaving in a puddle,” replies Raven tartly. “It's crap, but at least it leaves my hands free. I'll make myself something better, eventually.”

Bellamy doesn't move a muscle as she walks, closing the space between them in long, painful strides. She is okay, he lets himself believe, battered but not broken, and she's standing strong even if she needs a little help.

(In a few days, Bellamy will kiss his way down her body, and ease the brace off her leg, carefully avoiding bruises and cuts left by the makeshift padding. He'll slowly rub circulation back into the sore thigh before he moves on, with Raven's strong hand on his head urging him to go faster, faster, _faster_...

But he doesn't know any of this now; he just cups her face, and leans to give her a soft kiss on the cheek.

To Raven's credit, she doesn't wipe the mud off immediately.)


	3. Getting dolled up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once you entered the storage area, you could wander for days without visiting the same room twice, so it's no surprise that Bellamy only runs into Raven after hours upon hours of staring at artifacts alone. Most of those things, he can't even name, so of course she's here too, pawing through fabrics and furniture until she can make them tick exactly how she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: do you think you could come up with a drabble in which bellamy would see raven all dolled up? His reaction would be priceless ( also my headcanon is that raven would still wear her boots though bc you never know when the next fight comes and fuck it they're so fucking comfortable)

Stepping into Mount Weather is like entering a completely different world.

Bellamy knows his history: the stations came together, and in doing so, they made the Ark that could bring them into safety from the terrible waters of the Flood. The stations weren't exactly lifeboats filled with precious objects the people couldn't bear to lose; they were full of food, practical clothes, and as many digital books as the techs could frantically download before bombs smashed the servers that held the cloud.

Not Mount Weather though. They had enough time to salvage the real deal.

Most of their people already had time to wander through those rooms, but for Bellamy, the first few days are a haze of beauty, shock and resentment, _you had all those wonders when we..._

Octavia usually stops him before he can finish this sentence in his head. There is no use anyway.

***

Once you entered the storage area, you could wander for days without visiting the same room twice, so it's no surprise that Bellamy only runs into Raven after hours upon hours of staring at artifacts alone. Most of those things, he can't even name, so of course she's here too, pawing through fabrics and furniture until she can make them tick exactly how she wants.

“Found anything interesting?” asks Bellamy as he steps in.

“In this section? Mostly clothes,” she replies without turning her head. She twists her body slightly to let him see the pile in front of her, and randomly grabs something that looks like a very long sock. “I'm not even sure how people wore most of those things. I mean, is that a dress?”

Bellamy follows her hand with his eyes to the far end of the table, where a biggish pile of something green is clearly visible among other fabrics. Before Raven can ask, he picks it up and spreads it within her reach.

“Looks like it. We didn't exactly have books with many pictures” he says as they both palm the soft cloth that Bellamy is tempted to call cotton, even if he isn't quite sure. It offers little in terms of protection, but the color is gorgeous, still bright and vivid after so many years. How did those people manage to not wash it down to rags?

“Here, try it on,” says Raven excitedly, and pushes the dress towards Bellamy. “Come on, I want to see!”

They probably aren't supposed to do anything like this; grab, or handle, or claim for their own, but Raven looks so fascinated by the novelty of beauty that Bellamy doesn't care if they're being vultures. He simply takes off his shirt, undoes the small zipper on the side of the dress, and tries to pull the whole thing over his head.

Distracted by the broadness of the skirt, he doesn't even glance at the top, and at the third suspicious crack from the seams, he's forced to admit defeat.

“Looks more like your size,” he says with a shrug. “Want to try?”

Raven gives the frilly sleeves a suspicious glance, but then gets up slowly to accept the challenge. It would be too much fuss to remove her pants and the knee brace she wears over them, but she peels off her shirt and tosses it in the general direction of Bellamy's, then picks up the green dress, and tries to put it on.

It turns out to be a two-man job, because the fabric seems to have a mind of its own, twisting and pooling where no one wants it. Raven gets entangled in the skirt twice before she asks for help, and by the time they manage to put everything in place and do up the zipper, they're both laughing.

“So?” asks Raven breathlessly. “Do I look serious and respectable, like a lady of the old?”

“Definitely,” answers Bellamy, then gives in to temptation and makes a mock bow. Raven ignores him.

“How did they ever get anything done?” she wonders as she palms the dress around her hips and waist.

“You got things done wearing a space suit.”

“Point. Still, this gets in the way, and I'm cold.”

“Do you want to change back?”

“No way,” says Raven with a grin, an actual grin, carefree and mischievous in a way he's never seen her, and for a moment, all Bellamy wants to do is dive into the piles of clothes, and find her matching stockings. 

He isn't entirely sure what stockings are, but he's almost certain they're supposed to go with a dress.


	4. Raven lets Bellamy look at her legs and back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bellamy's lips touch her collarbone, Raven decides to just stop thinking.
> 
> Not that she can – Raven Reyes is made of thoughts running too much and too fast, and clashing over her head until she grinds her teeth, inhales deeply, and puts her hands to work.
> 
> So maybe she can't stop thinking, but she decides to at least try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: raven finally let's bellamy look at her legs and back. loving sex ensues

When Bellamy's lips touch her collarbone, Raven decides to just stop thinking.

Not that she can – Raven Reyes is made of thoughts running too much and too fast, and clashing over her head until she grinds her teeth, inhales deeply, and puts her hands to work.

So maybe she can't stop thinking, but she decides to at least try.

His hands are ridiculously big, almost mismatched, as if they belonged to a much more bulky man. Raven noticed this long ago, back when she jumped his bones (back when she could still jump), but now they seem even bigger, surreal and monstrous, and soon, they're gonna...

“Are you okay?” asks Bellamy quietly, his hands on his waist heavy like stones.

(It's not him who's heavy.)

“Fine.”

“Bullshit.”

They fight that night, in an undignified state of half-undress; fight in a way that makes Raven think of porcupines, small, and ridiculous, and prickly. She should've known better, of course, better than bringing him to her bed without a word as if he could help. Not that it matters, she tells herself. She doesn't need him anyway.

***

When he comes to her workshop in the morning, she is determined to acknowledge his presence.

“Do you need anything?” she asks icily enough to stop him in his tracks, what a great distraction: Raven Reyes made of pins and needles, good luck getting past that.

Bellamy's eyebrows ride up, and he considers her for a second before he says, loudly and clearly:

“And screw you too, Raven.”

She looks him straight in the eye, and it's a mistake; the corners of her mouth do a weird thing, and then they're both cracking up, feeling unimaginable relief.

“Look,” says Bellamy when he catches his breath. “I'm here to apologize. I said a stupid thing or five last night.”

“Yeah, way ahead of you,” replies Raven without hesitation. 

In the safe space of her workshop, his hands don't seem so big at all. They're just hands, resting peacefully on the edge of her table, and not shadows of a night past, her leg wrapped around his hip as he...

Suddenly, she needs him to see.

“Help me out of this,” she says as she props herself up to sit on the table, her injured leg bravely extended in his direction. Bellamy obeys without question, undoes the countless buckles on her brace until he can slide it off, slowly but with no fuss, he must know it doesn't hurt anymore.

Her eyes are glued to his face as she takes his hand, and puts it right on the scar on her back. It still hurts like a bruise, the tissue too tender to fully settle, and she winces in plain sight, alert like a judge.

She won't stop thinking, so she might as well stop trying to pretend.

Bellamy takes a step forward, his hands brushing the tops of her thighs, and waits for her to wrap her arms around his neck before he kisses her, slow and deliberate like he's proving a point, but that's okay. She's proving one too.

She expects him to say something noble, “You are not broken” or “I like you this way,” but instead his breath catches, and suddenly the big hands on her legs are shaking, “Don't you ever die on me,” he whispers, “don't...”

It would be nice, wouldn't it, to just hug and stay close, nice, and cozy, and perfectly safe. It would be smart, too, given where they are, but Raven is having none of it. She might not need him alright, but she bloody well _wants_ him.

And anyway, it's not like it'll take long.

She pushes on Bellamy's shoulders, and he only gives her a brief glance to make sure he got her meaning right before he drops to his knees, and starts undoing her pants. She waits for him to get them all the way down before she hooks her good leg over his shoulder, and it's good, so good, her hands free and her hips fully under control. As Bellamy gestures her to spread her legs wider, and she obliges without difficulty, Raven promises herself that from now on, she's only ever having sex on worktops.

She has weeks of build-up under her belt, so when Bellamy tries to start slowly, she simply pulls his head closer until he gets the hint and gets straight to it. He tries a few things at first, even licks up and down her clit, then smooth, slow circles, but Raven likes direct pressure, and moans loudly when she feels a small, strong flick, just the tip of his tongue, just here, right here, I'm gonna...

Half the camp probably hears her, oh well, thinks Raven as she comes down from her high. 

At least they knew not to walk in.


	5. Raven's mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all those weeks on the ground, it feels weird to suddenly see families. Logically, Bellamy knows that not every single one of his people is an orphan, but it was so easy to forget when it was just them against the world, the parents nothing more than shadows on the night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: Raven opening up to Bellamy about her past with her mother after Abby hitting her

After all those weeks on the ground, it feels weird to suddenly see families. Logically, Bellamy knows that not every single one of his people is an orphan, but it was so easy to forget when it was just them against the world, the parents nothing more than shadows on the night sky.

(No more than lights on the night sky, floated, or killed to save oxygen, or blown up on their way to the ground. No wonder no one talked about their families.)

“That looks cozy,” comments Bellamy one night, inclining his head towards Clarke sharing supper with her mom while Miller hands his dad a spare blanket.

Raven gives him a noncommittal shrug.

“Good for them,” she says blandly, her hands wrapped around a tin mug. “How about you?”

He must look confused, because after a second, she clarifies: “Any family beside Octavia?”

“My mom was floated,” he replies, surprised. “When Octavia...”

“I know about your mom. But how about your dad? Or grandparents?”

Now it's Bellamy's turn to shrug.

“Just the three of us,” he says curtly. “I have no clue who my father was. Mom wouldn't say. I was going to petition for his name when I turned eighteen, but there wasn't time, and then Octavia was caught...” Bellamy reaches for a mug of his own before he continues. “They checked Octavia's genetic code when they got her, and some guy was floated together with mom, but I never asked.”

Raven nods.

“I never asked about mine either,” she offers. “I meant to, but... I mean, it's not like he bent over backwards to find me, right?”

She looks at him defiantly, as if daring him to argue with her, and Bellamy returns her gaze calmly. On the Ark, it was generally good form to be nice about your family, but the Ark is gone now, and anyway, he isn't exactly in the mood for niceties. 

Might as well admit that he didn't conveniently forget to research his father either.

Raven visibly relaxes when he doesn't respond to her challenge, and wraps her blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Bellamy moves as if on cue, tossing a few new branches into the fire, and causing the flames to subdue before they shoot back up. 

Some questions, it turns out, are easier the dark.

“How about your mom?” he asks quietly, giving Raven a chance to pretend she didn't hear him.

(Pretends, himself, to not remember, his head empty of uniforms, of floorboards, and drills, and hunger. His mother, he reminds himself, did everything she _had to_ to keep them safe.)

“She said I was wasting my time in Zero G. I told her to float herself.”

There is a long silence after this, filled with nothing but the crack of flames they're both staring at. Raven's hand, Bellamy discovers, is strangely close to his own, but he doesn't dare to reach for it, doesn't dare to do as much as look at her directly.

“No, you didn't,” he says eventually.

Raven tenses next to him before she lets out a mirthless laugh, raw and honest, and smooth like a fist.

“No,” she repeats regretfully. “No, I didn't.”


	6. Bellamy proposing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of the time, Bellamy can't believe that Raven actually misses the Ark.

Most of the time, Bellamy can't believe that Raven actually misses the Ark.

It's possible he'd miss it too, if he were her; miss Mecha, and Zero-G, and all those fantastic things that unravel when you're just a touch smarter than everyone else. For him, however, life on the Ark was significantly less delightful, and he's not willing to forget just yet.

But since she knows – knows about food and water shortages, about thin, bare walls, neverending shifts, and boiling anger – he might just be persuaded to play along for a little bit.

“Oh, come on,” exclaims Raven in mock exasperation. “There must be something you miss!”

(It's been ages since he saw her like this, laughing and messing around, with her leg stretched in front of her like it didn't weigh a ton.)

When Bellamy blurts out: “Movies!” he doesn't quite appreciate the possible consequences.

“We used to blast movies all the time,” he explains, seeing Raven's raised eyebrows. “Anything we could get our hands on, pre-Ark stuff, you know. To cover up Octavia. Ever since she was born, I did everything with movies in the background. After some time, even when the neighbors heard her, they just assumed we were watching Buffy.”

And just like that, it starts.

“Which movies did you like?” she asks innocently.

***

Raven, as it turns out, liked space operas, and robust fantasy worlds with wizards and dragons; anything but Earth with its annoying unfamiliarity. Now that she's here, she wants to know more, but even Raven Reyes can't build blown-up movies out of the rubble of a blown-up spaceship.

Except of course she can.

“Tell me a story,” she demands when they're sitting at an evening fire, warming their bones after a long day, and Bellamy, his eyes closed, brings back anything he can.

“Once upon a time,” he says with mockery in his voice, pretending that he's not taking this seriously, “monsters came out of the sea, and people built two-pilot robots to fight them.”

There are days for laughs and days for tears, days for thoughts and days for feelings. “Once upon a time,” he starts when Raven looks more beaten down than usual, ”there was a candy pink girl who went to law school to impress her asshole of a boyfriend.”

(“Once upon a time,” he whispers automatically that one night when Raven is sick with the fever, and Abby's worried looks make him sick to his stomach. “Once upon a time. Once upon a time...”)

“Once upon a time,” he says, unprompted, when they're in his bed, happy and breathless, “there were five sisters who didn't have that much money.”

This is a night when he doesn't get far – after a few minutes, he finds himself standing stark naked in front of Raven, and watching tears of laughter roll down her eyes as he recites the proposal speech as well as he remembers: “And now nothing remains for me but to assure you,” he announces with great emphasis before he drops on one knee, “in the most animated language of the violence of my affection.”

Even after Raven falls asleep, he feels her laughter vibrate in his own chest.


	7. Bellamy pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven is easy to think about. (She is easy to remember, sharp eyes and sharp fingers, and electric skin he was only allowed to touch here, here, and also right there. Most definitely right there, oh God, just there.)

Raven is easy to think about. (She is easy to remember, sharp eyes and sharp fingers, and electric skin he was only allowed to touch here, here, and also right there. Most definitely right there, oh God, just there.)

So he thinks about her sometimes, not that he'd ever say anything about it. They're just thoughts, thoughts of legs, and hands, and breaths, and if some thoughts are more persistent than others, oh well. 

(Maybe one day she'll let him.)

The worst thought is the one of her legs, resting on his shoulders as if they weighed nothing – in his thoughts, they always weigh nothing. (This is how he remembers them, and it's hard to imagine the weight of metal and dead flesh he'd feel now, even though he knows that if she just let him, he'd never be able to imagine anything else again.) This thought is the worst, because it sticks to his head for days at the time, and makes his fingers slide against empty air in anticipated caress; Raven's imaginary thigh riding up under his make-believe touch to make way for his tongue.

He isn’t pathetic enough to let his tongue move against his palate as he imagines something else entirely, but it’s a close call. It’s pride, he tells himself sometimes. Pride is almost as good a scapegoat as sexual frustration, and stress comes as a close third. Bellamy is nothing if not excellent at making excuses, and if he doesn’t believe them himself, oh well. 

He’s too busy dreaming to notice.

***

At some point, the world comes apart around them, but in Bellamy’s experience, this is precisely what the world tends to do from time to time. The cold, stiff dread that settles low in his spine doesn’t loosen for days, and he walks it off, step after heavy step, until his legs weigh almost as much as Raven’s.

(They don’t, not by a long shot, and on some level, Bellamy knows this. This is the level usually reserved for feeling ashamed for himself.)

Whenever they’re too tired to fight, Bellamy and Raven just accidentally seem to fall into the same bed. It’s terrible sex, Bellamy tells himself every time afterwards, and that’s why he keeps trying again and again; because he can’t bear never getting it right.

(Not again, he tells himself every time afterwards, shaky breath and shaky fingers, his tongue so stiff in his mouth he can’t utter a word of protest when Raven gathers up her things and disappears into the dark. Not again.)

When one night Raven’s hand rests on his shoulder and pushes down ever so softly, he has no idea what she wants him to do, because she can't possibly be thinking what he thinks she's thinking.

When it turns out she very much is, Bellamy’s mouth goes so dry he can’t make it work for a second.

"If you don’t want to…" says Raven in a prickly voice, her hand withdrawing so fast Bellamy doesn’t have a chance to catch it.

"I do," he whispers, finally finding his tongue. "I do, of course I do."

(There are a few things he could add, but it would just be pathetic, so he kisses Raven’s neck to stop himself from talking.)

He can feel with just the tips of his fingers that she’s wet and beyond ready, nervously sensitive to every touch like someone who’s been built up for too long. It won’t be good for her, or at least not as good as he’d want it to be, but he’s determined to use what little skill he has to make it as good as he possibly can.

He tries to go slowly, but there is no use. Raven flinches uncomfortably under his feather-like touch, and she lets out an annoyed hiss; not a sound he ever wanted to hear in bed. Clearly, this is not the time to be gentle.

Raven doesn't exactly come – she's just tense until she isn't, her muscles relaxing violently against Bellamy's palms after a few strong licks. It's not good enough, but he has no idea how to fix it; not when she's like this, overstretched and overproud, her skin trying to jump out of itself at the slightest touch.

“I'll do better next time,” he says before he can stop himself, and wipes his chin reluctantly, not ready to come back up just yet. There is a spot on Raven's hip he'd love to kiss, but he isn't sure if it's high enough for her to not flinch at too much stimulation. He really should've kissed it on his way down, but...

Raven's fingers stop him mid-thought as they appear out of nowhere and start stroking his hair, gentle and surprisingly lazy, as if encouraging him in his folly. 

He ends up resting his head against her hip, his nose digging slightly into Raven's flesh, until she comes down from her high.


	8. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness is one of the most difficult things on the ground.

Darkness is one of the most difficult things on the ground.

When Raven was a kid, she used to think she'd like darkness. Outer space was dark just as the Ark was bright, and that was enough for Raven to make things clear in her head. Darkness, she imagined, would be a coat she drapes around herself until she is hidden from that accursed tin can she had to call home.

That was before she tripped over her first root, and scraped her right knee so badly she had a limp for a day.

(Of course now she has a limp for much longer than a day, and it's not the darkness' fault, so Raven picks her battles and decides not to hold a grudge. Still, she doesn't exactly forget her disappointment.)

Darkness on the ground, as it turns out, is different from one she knows from Zero-G; it's harsher and meaner, and filled with nasty little traps, with roots and wild animals, and one bed too many to fall into.

(It's dark. No one will see.)

“Scoot over,” she says, and Bellamy obliges groggily without as much as a word. He used to argue at first, with a haughty voice and comically ruffled feathers, but now he opens his arms without a word. 

“Have you ever slept alone?” she asked him once, looking him straight in the eye to make sure he wouldn't pretend to be asleep.

“I have,” he answered shortly. “You're hoarding the blanket.”

Fine. She didn't want to talk anyway.


	9. First vacation away together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth is huge.

Earth is huge.

You couldn't fully appreciate it on the Ark – couldn't really see just how far your two legs could carry you when you were walking in circles, quarters, workshops, and mess hall, until your head was spinning. On the ground, you can walk in a straight line for hours, or even for a day if you wish, and never have to make a single turn.

As long as you're willing to step into some streams, that is. 

Which, Raven is. She doesn't care what she steps into, as long as she can put one foot in front of the other. Now that Mount Weather is defeated, and no one needs her to fix radios, neutralize gases, or watch her people get slaughtered when she can do nothing about it, she can finally go wherever the hell she pleases.

Or at least as far as her leg lets her. No one promised this would be the perfect world.

In fact, she only goes as far as some rocks by the stream, and once she reaches them, the pain in her back makes her sick to her stomach. It'll pass, of course; it always does, and then she'll be able to go on, go as far as she can, determined to drown in freedom and fresh air. She's paid for this – and paid in blood.

“Looking for something?” says a familiar voice from behind her, and Raven almost jumps out of her skin.

“It's not like I have anything better to do,” she replies. “What's up with you? Do you need something, or are you just startling people for fun?”

It'd take some effort to turn around and look him in the face, so Raven is glad when he walks up to her himself. He looks a bit shamefaced, but mostly tired, in a quiet sort of way. 

“Like you said,” he states with a small shrug. “Nothing better to do. Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Suit yourself.”

Maybe she sleeps with him there, sprawled on rocks warmed by the sun, and absorbing the heat like a lizard, relaxed, and careless, and swift. They don't say a word to make sure that whatever happens doesn't mean a thing, because they had enough meaningful things in the last few months to last them a fucking decade, and now they just want a rest.

Or maybe she doesn't. Maybe they just sit on warm rocks for hours, telling each other about bad movies they used to watch on the Ark, they get up and keep walking, slowly, until Raven goes pale as a sheet and has to rest for a bit. Maybe they walk until dusk, then make camp on the forest floor, heads surrounded by grass and pine needles, and if they get a bit too close after their fire dies, well – who's there to see them?

Maybe Bellamy does walk away and leaves Raven alone to fight through the pain, until she finally gives up and goes back to camp to try again tomorrow.

(Nah. No one would believe _that_.)


	10. Bellamy confesses his feelings for Raven post s2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven takes to looking over her shoulder at the slightest noise. Bellamy tries very hard to think nothing of it.
> 
> Yeah, good luck with that.

Raven takes to looking over her shoulder at the slightest noise. Bellamy tries very hard to think nothing of it.

Yeah, good luck with that.

Somehow, it just happens that he's always around her these days – their tents aren't even that close (not that Camp Jaha is big enough for anything to be actually far), but it's easy to find a reason to be close when he's moving between the woods and various workshops, trying to do his part in preparing for the winter. It feels strange to not be in charge, but it also feels just like home, frustration mixed with fatigue, and just a touch of unrest.

Raven is right there with him, flinging tools and screaming and biting. She does her work like a good little soldier, but no one can stand her, not her anger and not the big-eyed fear showing in every movement of her clever fingers. 

Her job is to re-purpose any tech she can salvage from what's left of the Ark while the rest of the team works on what they brought from Mount Weather. Eventually, Bellamy takes to cleaning her workshop; picking up her tools and following her around with a backpack whenever she ventures to the wreckage. Raven didn't walk so well to begin with, but she's even worse after Mountain Men helped themselves to her bone marrow, so no one really comments on Bellamy changing his own work assignment. It's entirely possible they didn't even notice.

He sleeps in Raven's tent at least three nights every week. No one comments on this, either.

She is a stormy roommate, prickly and loud, and shaky, and it's comforting, in a way – every cutting edge visible so clearly that there can be no mistake about what she thinks, or feels, or fears. It's funny how he used to worry she'd try to put on a brave face, and keep her feelings under the wraps until they eat her alive. Instead, she kisses him silly when she feels hollow, and turns her back when her bones hurt too much to walk; no sweet words or fake smiles, but Raven, clear, and sharp, and filled with grief to the brim.

Bellamy often wonders why she asks so little of him, for the wonder that she is. It's not something he ever tells her – until, one day, he does.

It's not love, really; not what he imagines love to be, judging from what he always heard about it – it's hard, even on the Ark, to never hear stories about love. This isn't it, this bone-deep _thing_ he has with Raven, but it is something, and he doesn't know a better word. It occurs to him briefly that instead of talking, he'd rather kiss her, but with Camp Jaha around him and no threat of immediate death, he feels suddenly shy; overwhelmed by just how much he doesn't know of her.

“I love you,” he whispers into her hair when they're resting in her bed, limbs heavy after a day of petty little fights that felt like major battles.

Raven immediately goes stiff in his arms, as if expecting a blow.

“And what if I don't love you?” she asks, a challenge obvious in her voice.

“I didn't ask, did I?”

In the silence that falls, she weights his words carefully, mindful of flavor and texture. He can sort of see her face in the dim light of the camp, or maybe he imagines he can.

It's not in Raven's nature to offer him an out or say a soft word, not even in acknowledgement of what she just heard, but she relaxes into him, it seems, muscle after muscle, until they're touching head to toe, her leg wrapped loosely around his thighs.

In the morning, she flings a screwdriver at Kane, barely misses his head, and almost gets herself arrested. It could've been worse.


	11. Outdoor sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes them a few years to actually figure out summer.

It takes them a few years to actually figure out summer.

The first one is a disaster they don’t really have the tools to deal with, dehydration and heatstroke wreaking havoc among them until someone finally remembered some long-forgotten Earth Skills class, and talked Monty into making those ridiculous hats that make Bellamy look like he’s twelve years old. At least wearing a hat is less of a pain in the ass than hauling all the water from the stream all the time. Bellamy officially can’t understand why people from before the Ark were so into summer.

Except, of course, Raven obviously loves it.

Whenever she has time, she ends up sprawled on the grass like a lizard, luxuriating in the heat on her skin. It makes sense that she loves it; Bellamy remembers all too well how winter, for Raven, means pain and stiffness, skin cracking on her hands, and muscles tightening until all she can do is howl into the night. Summer makes Raven feel alive.

So Bellamy sucks it up, puts on his funny hat, and walks to the meadow to lie down next to her.

It’s familiar and comfortable, this not-relationship they have; four years of sharing a tent, of starving, and freezing, and plotting together because neither of them could survive the ground alone. Technically, she’d be perfectly fine enjoying the sun on her own, but he’s so used to her company it would feel strange to spend such a stretch of idle hours without her.

Well, that’s what he tells himself.

“Don’t you dare,” she warns him as soon as he approaches. “Too hot. No touching.”

“I wasn’t going to…”

“Yes, you were.”

So he lies down a few inches from her, his fingers on the grass by her hip, and focuses his gaze on her face. Once upon a time, he would’ve backed out immediately after what she just said, but now he catches a teasing note in her voice, and lets himself hope. 

He won’t touch her until she lets him, and so he keeps his eyes open.

“Okay, I was,” he admits once he’s settled. “Do you have anything better to do?”

“I’m not moving for at least another hour.”

“I didn’t ask you to move.”

That finally makes her open her eyes as she sucks in a breath, and Bellamy nuzzles his cheek against her knee without even trying to keep himself from smiling.

“Come on,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to move a muscle. Just let me…”

“And what if I get sweaty?”

“We’ll walk to the stream.”

She keeps teasing him even as she sits up to touch his chin and kiss him deeply, her smile all the encouragement he needs to start stroking the inside of her thigh. Raven is playful only when she’s warm, and seeing her so relaxed makes his stomach clench. There is no brace on her leg, and she’s moving in a way that suggests she’s in no pain, a rare occurrence he wants to, needs to celebrate, even if this amount of heat makes him want to curl up under a rock and die.

He’s careful to spread her legs wide as he settles between them, the weather really not inviting more skin-on-skin contact than absolutely necessary. At night, he promises himself, he’ll build her up some more, but now he doesn’t really feel like too much moving, either, so as soon as he’s made himself comfortable, he gently slides his tongue across her opening.

Raven reaches for his hair the way she always does, then gasps in surprise when her fingers clench around his hat instead. They’re both still laughing when he moves his head up, and licks a broad circle around her clit.

Suddenly Raven doesn’t have enough breath left to finish her laughter.

He goes slowly to make it up to her for the lack of foreplay; teases that spot right above her clit that always makes her moan, and slides his tongue inside her in lieu of fingers he should probably wash from grass and dust before they go anywhere near Raven. At some point, he registers his hat landing on his back as Raven’s hand rests lightly on his hair like a promise. It makes him stop and bite down on his lip before he can continue.

She pulls on his hair the second he finally touches her clit.

He immediately jumps to the speed that she likes, mesmerized by the weight of her hand that makes him feel like he’ll be here forever, hands and knees on the dry grass as Raven arches under his mouth. After four years, it’s easy to know when she’s close; judge by the tension of her thigh and the grip of her fingers as she pulls, pulls him into her until she decides she can’t take it any more, and lets go of him with a moan that rings in his ears for long minutes afterwards. 

It’s way too hot to as much as hug, but before they leave for the stream, Raven picks up his hat from the grass, and sticks it firmly on top of his head.


	12. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes they still have it in them to wonder.

The ground is silent and hard, it’s merciless and soaked in blood, and they know that all to well -- know from blisters on their hands, and from scars on their backs; from shivers, and cuts, and sores. 

And yet every time Raven watches the world with her eyes wide open, Bellamy doesn’t have to ask why.

It’s been raining for close to a week, and by now, Bellamy feels like he’ll never ever be dry again. Things have been especially hard on his shoes, which, at this point, are much better at keeping water in than out. Still, knowing his luck, he’ll step on something the minute he takes them off, so here he is: sitting in a leaking tent, wearing shoes against his better judgment, and struggling to not mend his jacket too well, because if anyone in camp realizes he was raised by a seamstress, he’ll be mending everyone’s clothes until he’s too old to see a needle.

He’s so focused that when Raven sneaks in from behind and rests her chin on his shoulder, he starts and drops the jacket straight into the mud on the floor.

“Sorry,” she mutters against his cheek. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Come on, I need you to step out now.”

“Into _this_?”

It’s a valid question; the rain is so heavy that it’s starting to look like someone was pouring water straight out of a bucket. Still, Raven nods earnestly, and actually pulls at his sleeve.

“Come on,” she says, and sounds so familiar, familiar and domestic, that he is up before he even knows he started moving. Old habits die hard when you’ve lived your entire life surrounded by curious girls.

He thinks she must’ve seen something out there -- an animal or a person, or maybe a way to create another little device to make their lives easier. Except as soon as they step out of the tent, and Bellamy feels heavy droplets of rain fall under the collar of his shirt, Raven stops and raises her head.

That’s when it clicks.

He stands behind her and wraps his arms loosely around her waist as they breathe in the rain, letting water wash over them in the silence of the camp. The smell of a storm is stronger than they’ve ever experienced before, and Raven extends her hand to catch a few raindrops, to watch, and learn, and marvel at the new world around them. 

She would, he knows, run right into that storm if only she could.

They stay outside long enough for Bellamy’s ruined shoes to start digging into the soft mud, and it takes a bit of an effort to pull them out again. Once he’s done, he lingers for a moment at the entrance to the tent, waiting for Raven to deal with a faulty hinge in her brace.


	13. “I thought you were dead.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since canon had a chance to do this and didn’t take it, I’m gonna go with a missing scene from 2x05

When he comes to her asking for guns, all she does is nod solemnly, as if this was exactly what she expected.

It’s not at all easy, looking at her like this, tense, and uncomfortable, and smiling with a fake smile that makes his teeth hurt, but there is no time to linger. Finn is out there, on a wild goose chase with Murphy, and they have to find him before something happens. Every minute they’re not out looking for him can mean the difference between life and death.

So, logically, Bellamy takes another step towards Raven, and rests his hand on her arm.

“Wait a minute,” he says quietly. “What’s been going on with you?”

Raven shrugs, but for some strange reason, she doesn’t reject his touch, so Bellamy takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t think you’d be up so soon after that surgery,” he tries. “You’re tough.”

“Yeah, try staying in medical for more than a day. Those doctors are obnoxious. You’d walk out of there on two broken legs if you had to.”

“So bad?”

“The worst.”

He can’t help but smile at this, and for a second, things are easy: Raven steps just an inch closer to him, so he wraps his arm around her in a loose hug, expecting her to give him a cue to move away after a brief embrace.

She doesn’t.

He probably shouldn’t, but he moves his other hand up to cup the back of Raven’s head, and closes what’s left of the distance between them until he can feel her weight against his chest, steady and surprisingly real, and so shockingly familiar it’s like a blow to his knees.

“You scared me,” he mutters into her hair.

It’s Raven who brings them back to reality, moves away reluctantly, and adjusts her makeshift crutches. She’s right, of course she’s right, they have to hurry, Finn is out there, and every minute they’re not looking for him…

He grabs her wrist.

“Do you have things to do here?” he asks quickly. “Communications? Security? Have they given you work?”

“Yeah, I’ve got something. Still…”

There is no comfort he can offer, not now and not to this, so he just stands there, softly brushing his thumb against the bruises that the crutches are already leaving on Raven’s hands and forearms. Soon she takes away her hand, then turns around and starts walking towards wherever there is that she expects to find guns, but when she’s letting them out of camp an hour later, at least she isn’t pretending that she’s fine with being left behind.


	14. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” || “Wanna dance?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In some ways, things are incredibly simple.

In some ways, things are incredibly simple.

Raven still remembers how it was back home. Marriage on the Ark was a can of worms, hard to get, and even harder to break if you ever wanted to; since living quarters were few and far between, sometimes divorced couples were stuck for years in the same small spaces, making each other miserable for twenty years or more. On Alpha, this was a lot easier to navigate, but most of Raven’s people just didn’t bother: filed for a child with someone, but stayed in their separate quarters just in case, and raised the kid between two tiny rooms on opposite sides of the station.

So this thing with Bellamy right now? Feels exactly like home.

She has her tent and he has his, even though they both keep a change of clothes at the other’s place. The camp is a hive, anyway, just like Mecha was, and Raven doesn’t feel like she lives with Bellamy -- she feels, rather, as if she lived with a few dozen people at once, and all of them think they can borrow her screwdrivers.

Which, they can’t.

What’s different from how things were at home is that each evening, someone lights a fire, and then people inevitably come crawling out of their tents for a bit of company that doesn’t involve backbreaking work. There is talk and there are stories, and when one day music appears, Raven feels as if she was thrown right into a very old movie. It’s a short way from singing and playing to dancing, and honestly, she has no clue how they have the energy for that after the day’s work, because she sure as hell doesn’t. She doesn’t have the energy at all.

Except Bellamy clearly does, and after some monkey dance with Octavia that’s too well-coordinated for them not to have done it a thousand times as children, he moves on to Monty, and Miller, and Harper, dancing with silly ease until he’s out of breath.

When he falls heavily on the ground in front of not-their tent, he’s grinning like an idiot.

“You didn’t pull anything?” she asks him. It’s supposed to be a joke, light, and smooth, and totally in the mood of the evening, but somehow it falls flat; small and peevish, because deep down, Raven Reyes is a terrible person.

Bellamy looks at her sharply.

“What did I do?” he says simply. He twists his body towards her so that she can see his full attention is on her, and it should improve her mood, really, but instead it makes her even more annoyed with him, and with her own pettiness.

“Nothing.”

“This isn’t your ‘nothing’ face. This is...”

It’s almost comical, the look on his face when everything clicks in his head, the people, the night, and the dances, and how every night, Raven is sitting further and further away from the common fire.

Or, rather, it would be comical, if she wasn’t so damn annoyed.

“You wanna dance with me?” he asks quietly.

“Before or after I jump over the fire and do a quick run around camp?”

To his credit, he doesn’t try to make it better; doesn’t offer to carry her, or to get the guys play a slow song just for her. He simply goes silent, silent and strangely pensive, and then he reaches to take her hand and kiss it softly, as if he was making a promise.

When she comes back to work the next evening, the common fire is already burning right in front of _their_ tent.


	15. just once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In reality, they’re made of “just once”.

In reality, they’re made of “just once”.

It was never “I promise..” with them, not “I will always…” or “Ten years from now…”. All those fancy words, they never really stick when you’re nineteen and about to die, or twenty and too broken to walk for days, or twenty one and so hungry, so unimaginably hungry.

So – _just once_ , Raven tells herself as she steps into Bellamy’s tent. She kisses him _just once_ , and jumps his bones _just once_ , then leaves promptly, only to save his life, _just once_.

(She only gets shot once.)

And then he picks up on it, because only a fool would not. He stays the night _just once_ , curled around her like a cat, and when he wakes up in the morning, and touches her lightly, words come as easily as if she’s rehearsed them. “Okay,” she whispers as she opens her legs and lets him kiss the inside of her thigh. “Just this once.”

It’s mundane, and sad, and silly; he brings her firewood, and mends her jacket, and brings her a jammed riffle to fix – all once, _just once_ , before they get any ideas about themselves or about the ground. Ideas are too tricky to leave them unguarded.

(”Just once,” she groans one night when she has a fever, and he sits with her for hours, whispering nonsense about how she needs to drink more water, and doing what he can to cover up how badly his hands are shaking. She’s haggling, or maybe he’s haggling, their bed between them as a witness, and he says things to her, things that she’ll forget in the morning, for their own good. But now, oh, now she reaches for his hand desperately, and even if she confesses, her voice hoarse and hazy, how much she’s afraid to be alone just now, it’s okay.

She’s only letting him take care of her once.)


	16. You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” / "Kiss me."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bellamy wakes up, he feels so queasy he briefly considers dying.

When Bellamy wakes up, he feels so queasy he briefly considers dying.

“Are you gonna throw up again?” comes a voice from the corner of the tent.

He considers for a bit, moves his head experimentally before he props himself up on his elbows. It’s like the worst hangover he’s ever had, except he doesn’t remember drinking.

“I don’t think so?” he replies carefully. “Did I throw up?”

“Mm. Right before you passed out.”

He doesn’t look at Raven as she finally gets off her chair and starts walking towards the bed; this is embarrassing, fuck, embarrassing and beyond. How drunk _did_ he get if he doesn’t even remember the first drink?

No wonder she’s mad.

But then the hand that touches the back of his head is surprisingly soft, and there’s a mug of water at his lips, and when he sees Raven’s face up close, it’s like a punch in the gut. She looks tense, yes, worried and a little stern, but there is no hint of the very familiar anger; not when she lets him drink, and not when she briefly caresses his cheek.

“It’s called a heatstroke,” she explains quietly. “Clarke says it happens sometimes when you’re out in the sun for too long, and don’t drink enough water.”

Oh.

“You fell right on me, you know. Scared me half to death. Don’t ever do that again.”

She says all this in her most Raven voice, flippant with just a hint of mockery. It’s a show of indifference that he isn’t buying for even a second.

“How long was I out?” he asks to give himself more time to look at her; to take in her eyes, and hands, and a few very fresh bruises blooming under her skin. God, he really must’ve fallen right on her.

“Not long. But you’re staying in bed for the rest of the day. Doctor’s orders.”

She shoots him a stern look that’s supposed to make sure he obeys, and he braves a small smile, because, really, he could kiss her just now.

(He _would_ kiss her – kiss away the worry and the fear, and that slightly haunted look she gets every time he does something stupid or reckless. What she said, he knows, isn’t some fancy metaphor, and it really doesn’t take a genius to figure out why seeing him slump and fall at her feet scared her half to death.

But his head is still spinning, and anyway, he’s pretty sure his mouth tastes like vomit, so he just props himself up a little higher, and apologetically presses his lips right above a bruise on her arm.)


	17. “You did all of this for me?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gratitude doesn’t really have a place between them.

Gratitude doesn’t really have a place between them.

Raven would never let anyone do all those things for her: bring her food, or pelts, or firewood. In the winter, when her leg feels worse, Bellamy even carries her buckets of water from the stream, step after bloody step, until his shoulders are so sore he has trouble twisting them back to take off his jacket. 

Not that it’s warm enough for him to take off his jacket even in bed.

So they don’t keep score, because to do otherwise would be to court death. Raven doesn’t say “thank you” when Bellamy starts sewing for her, and he accepts it easily when she takes care of his gun and his walkie-talkie, checking them daily without him even asking. This is what others do as well: team up and move in together, in twos, or threes or fours, because no one can possibly do all of their surviving on their own. 

After some months, it doesn’t even feel weird that Bellamy sits in front of her in the evening, and lets her rub some life back into his neck and shoulders bruised by his carrying pole; it doesn’t feel weird that he knows how to take off her knee brace, or that he has a habit of warming her hands in his when cold wind bites at her fingers. In the spring, they make their way to a nearby lake, and scrub the grime off each other with rags, and sand, and sharp soap. After watching someone naked like this: red, and shivering, and suddenly conscious of the smell, it’s really hard to muster up any more discomfort.

There are moments, of course,

(Like:

Raven fixes up some scraps from the wreckage, and puts together quite a decent torch, then sells it to Lincoln for a book, a real one, ink, and pages, and covers. It’s a novel pretending to be a diary, and set in a place that existed so long ago she isn’t even sure how to pronounce a name, but when Bellamy sees it, his hands start shaking, literally shaking, and that makes it all worth it.

Like: 

Bellamy goes out hunting one day, and when he returns, he doesn’t smell of forests, or guts, or ground, but of ashes. His face is ashen, too, with Mount Weather written all over it as if in ghost script, but in his hands, there is a brace like they haven’t had even on the Ark, light and strong, with hinges moving so softly Raven can’t stop herself from touching them. He looks so haunted she doesn’t dare thank him, but he still kneels to help her put it on.)

but they’re swept under the rug so quickly no one ever knows they were there, because, really. How many times over do you have to owe someone your life for the word “debt” to lose its meaning?

(Like: 

Bellamy yet again signs up for something stupid; stupid, and dangerous, and scary, and Raven almost makes a scene. It’s the worst goodbye ever, don’t let the door hit you, and he has the decency to look shamefaced, not that it stops him from going. Except he runs right to her when he’s back, and takes all she throws at him, angry words drilling into his skull, and panicked hands checking him for nonexistent wounds in front of the whole camp. They have another fight later that night, and then it’s not a fight, but she’s still crying. He matches her anger for anger and fear for fear, and she isn’t quite sure how gratitude plays a part in this, but when he apologizes for the exact right thing, she has a feeling it totally does.

The next time, he takes her with him.)


	18. Raven gets in trouble because of Bellamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story was originally requested by buries, and shortitude responded with [we are the young we are the reckless](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4390271/chapters/10005758). Then I lost a bet to shortitude, and I was forced to drop everything and rewrite her story fro Bellamy's POV. (Yes, you need to read her fic first, or else the premise of this one doesn't make sense).

He doesn't want to die.

Funny that he'd feel like this, after all the stunts he pulled over the last few months. Death, it seemed, was an old friend, and one constantly waiting round the corner, quiet and stealthy, and so present Bellamy doesn't even notice it anymore. 

Except now that he's being yanked up a pole by a group of angry Grounders, and suddenly all he can see are the knives at their belts, big, and scary, and shiny, and, god, he is going to die, he really _is_ going to die, and with Octavia having to watch every single cut. 

He kicks out in panic, and all that it earns him are a few extra punches, not that it matters – not when it dawns on him, with mind-numbing clarity, just how his body will look in no more than a few hours. So he kicks again, again, and again, more determined and less frantic, aiming well just to give himself something to focus on; it's so much easier to go down with a bang than with a whimper.

Then he hears a scream that's not Octavia's, and everything turns upside down again.

Raven shouldn't be able to walk like this, not with her brace, and not after the day they've just had, but it seems like she never got the memo. She storms through the crowd like a fire bolt, and for a second, all Bellamy feels is an overwhelming relief that Octavia isn't there with her.

Then a new wave of terror kicks in.

It doesn't really matter that Raven hits Indra – Bellamy can see hands reaching for her even before she raises her fist, and then, after a short fight, here she is, on a pole right next to his, and he thinks, quite idiotically, how this alliance will break in two just like their skins.

"How's it hanging, shooter?" asks Raven with blood on her teeth, and he understands that she's really here, arms, and legs, and the most stubborn Raven head. The first cut across his shoulder falls without warning, and he screams like a banshee, real courage, Blake, some Scaevola act you've got there. Between Octavia in the crowd and Raven right by him, he has no clue who to be brave for, but then the knife moves to Raven's skin, and he doesn't even try to think anymore.

***

In the end, it's all the Griffins' doing: Clarke finds the poison and Abby fixes their wounds even as Gustus takes their place on the pole. Octavia is there, too, and Bellamy has almost as much trouble letting go of her as she has of him, "Don't you ever," she repeats against his cheek, "don't you ever..."

"Get wrongly accused of murder?" he prompts, and when she refrains, at the very last second, from slapping him playfully, he knows me must look almost as crappy as he feels.

He doesn't really look at Raven, not when he isn't sure how exactly he could tell her that he knows just how much he owes her, but when she finally comes up to him, and her fingers clench a little too hard on the skin of his uncut shoulder, he figures it out well enough. 

For the next few nights, they sleep with her curled up protectively around his back. Each of them thinks that it's the other who needs it more.


	19. Bellamy talks to Raven before her surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Abby who pulls Bellamy out of his cell.
> 
> (contains a vague description of Raven's surgery)

It's Abby who pulls Bellamy out of his cell.

"I need more people to hold her down for the surgery," he hears her say to Kane in the hallway. "And I'm not having strangers do it. That kid is terrified as it is."

Kid. Right. Was Raven a kid to them as well, he wonders, when they sent her through the atmosphere in a rusty tin can?

But he doesn't argue, not when this sudden rush of human decency gets him out of handcuffs. He needs to be out there now, needs to go and search for his people, but Raven is his people, too, and his duty is to her as much as it is to everyone else.

Finn is already in the infirmary when Bellamy walks in, and one look at their surrounding is enough to chill his blood, holy shit, this is where they're going to cut into something so delicate as Raven's spine?

"Bellamy?"

"Hey," he says as he goes down on his haunches right next to Finn, his hand going up automatically to stroke Raven's cheek. "They called me here to keep you company. How are you holding up?"

If she notices a bruise from handcuffs going around his wrist, she doesn't let it show.

"Been better. You?"

He can't help a smile at this; it's like talking to a scared child, or who knows, maybe they're all children when they're scared. And Raven is. She'd be an idiot not to be.

"Been worse," he says lightly, stopping himself from promising her everything would be okay. As much as she sounds like a child now, she's not one, and that's not something he'll ever forget. So instead, he makes a promise that he can keep: "Listen, we'll be here the whole time. We'll keep an eye on you."

She nods at him soundlessly, and, to his surprise, she twists her head a fraction of an inch to lean into his touch. 

Oh, there is more leaning later. Abby places him on Raven's side, and puts his hands on her ribs just in case, right above the strap that's supposed to hold her down. Even if he didn't see every small cut and stab, he'd feel it in her muscles pressing against his palms in vicious struggle, left, and right, and up, until all he is are his hands, and all she is is a wound, and Finn's fingers curled desperately around hers.

"She's a courageous kid," he hears Abby say before the guards take him back into custody, and that makes him look back, his eyes glued, for a second, to the finger-shaped bruises he left on Raven's ribs.

There is no grand gesture he can make now, to show them that she isn't one, and to give her the respect that she deserves, but he discreetly moves his hand towards Abby's work table, and slides the bloodied bullet into his pocket.

It was meant for him, anyway.


	20. Dirty talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven likes his words.

Raven likes his words.

Oh, she makes fun of them alright, _you're all talk, shooter, show don't tell_ , but she throws her head back when he has his mouth close to her ear; she holds on to his hair to keep him in place, and he never has to go above a whisper, so greedy she is for every single word. _Open your legs, darling, I want to touch you._

Some words only work when he says them in broad daylight, face flushed and pupils blown, _come here, kiss me, you're brilliant_. She never refuses compliments like this, presses herself to him with a laugh, _of course I am, I'm a genius_ , but later, at night, she milks him for every ounce of awe. _I was hard just listening to you, and you know it. Your eyes were so fucking bright because you get off on being the smartest person in the room._

_In camp._

_You get off on being the smartest person in camp._

He has other words for the safety of the night: _please_ , and _slower_ , and _oh God, I love you so much_ , but there is also _I want you_ , there is _bend over_ and _leave it on_. Sometimes he keeps his palms pressed to the insides of her thighs, his head tilted slightly, _tell me how you want it, I want to make out with you like this until you cry out_. 

One night she laughs at him quietly, _come on, Bell, stop being such a poet_ , and he laughs together with her, because really, there is nothing worse than bad poetry, but then she moans, and he cups her face automatically, _Raven, look at me_ , and _fuck, do it again, it feels like you're everywhere around me_.

_Come for me, darling. Come for me._


End file.
